Brutal turn of Events
by Like an Outlaw Baby
Summary: This is dark, dark, dark, and angsty. It's first depressing, but get's better. I can't do summaries worth crap, so you'll have to take a chance.


I remember the morning fairly early, dew still spread on the grass, on the cars outside. The countryside was warm, but still held the morning chill they usually do around 5 or 4 a.m. We didn't have many farm animals. We had Sally, the cow who was too old for the farming business; Missy, a horse with a broken leg that seemed impossible to set straight. One goat whose teeth were mainly missing, and refused to eat most of the food we forced it. Along with the animals were 5 acres, untamed, uncharted woods. Our home was large, looking like the usual farm house would. Wrap around porch, green roof, two stories humble abode type of place. My Mom loved this house with all of her heart; I hated it. I didn't go to school; we were too far out in the country to do that. I did all there was to do with the old land, plus the house. This was about the third time we moved for different reasons. I didn't really mind, tell you the truth. The main reason we came here was to get away from my step father. An insane man who should've stayed on his zanex, but of course, we weren't that lucky.

At 4 a.m. Sunday morning I was dragged from my house. My Mother was dragged in the opposite direction, from her home. It was early, and my hair was still in the long French braid my Mother liked braiding so often. She always said I had the head of hair she never got. We actually, looked nothing alike in all honesty. I was probably about 5'8, when my mother was near 6 foot. She had short shoulder length hair her entire life, while mine was completely grown to the low of my back. She was the picture perfect image for a Broadway magazine. Curves in all the right places, naturally blonde white hair over her entire body, tall and lithe. The big, puppy blue eyes that could make the richest men fall to their knees; which isn't always a good thing. While I was short, generally small, big brown eyes. Long black tar hair, slender neck and body. You know, the complete opposites but alike in every other way kind of thing. We stuck together our entire lives, and we were the best thing either of us ever had.

The man who ripped me from the couch near the dying fire had his hand intertwined with my painfully long hair. Tugging at it harshly, he threw me against my Mother's Honda. I hit it with a brutal meaty 'thud', lying starfish on the hood. My head made a nasty impact with the wind shield, but I didn't bother checking as a small red line ran through my eye. I leapt from the hood, trying to push through the two body builders.

"Mom!" I screamed, reaching out with my hands as my step father drug her away. The man on my right barely flicked his wrist and I was thrown against the wood of the porch. My back did a double take as the air in my lungs was immediately taken back. I coughed, trying to regain my composure; falling to my knees I touched my back. Pain jolted from my spine, angry from the impact. I glared at the two pieces of pure muscle and meat linking over to me agonizingly slow. I felt under me, finding an old brick discarded from the side of the wall, I gripped it tightly in my shaking hand. Throwing it as hard as I could, hitting the bulky brunette in the eye, he fell with a thud just as heavy as his entire body was. The other red head paused for a moment; I suppose to consider to help, or to just get me.

I didn't know because I didn't stop to look. I slid underneath the house quickly, me being the only one who could possibly fit underneath the impossibly small space. I held my breath as I forced my screaming back to arch and slither underneath the wooden boards of my house. The ground was dry, as in hadn't seen the sun or a day's of rain moisture in decades dry. I knew there were probably possums and snakes underneath the house, but I didn't care. Before I knew it I was out from under the house running towards the woods where I heard my Mother's screams. I ran as quickly as my lithe body would allow; sprinting across the field and into the still early morning black trees. The man was just in the line of shadows, shaded by the trees. He held my Mother's hair in his hand, similar as to how they had mine. She was doubled over, while he towered over her. I squinted my eyes, running over to him; I pulled back my fist ready to hit him; except I never got the chance. A blow landed on the backs of my knees, I fell immediately to the ground. I tried to get up, but thick hands held me down. I glared up at my step father, trying to see through the blood drenched black curls sticking to my cheeks and forehead. My Mother was huddled motionless on the ground.

"What?" I screamed, my breathing labored.

"What do you miss this time, huh Daddy?" I yelled through gasps of lost air.

"You want my ass or my mouth!" I hollered, trying to pull my arms from their vise grip. He smiled, walking silently up to me. I couldn't help the way my breathing stopped; I couldn't help the way my blood drenched neck hairs stood on end. I couldn't help my shaking body; my breathing went silent as did my comments. I didn't lower my head, but wanted to very badly. I looked past him at my huddled Mother, hidden from my view. Finally, I lowered my head; seeing his steel toed boots bring up painful images.

"What did you say to me?" He said in that raspy deep voice. I let my braid fall over my shoulder, trying to concentrate on how the twists of the French braid came to an end with a final curl of the pony tailer. He lifted his foot, preparing myself for a blow, while he slowly lifted my chin with the tip of his boot. I cringed as he lightly nudged my jaw.

"What did you say, Adam?" I closed my eyes, letting my long black lashes fan the side of my nose. I hated this.

"Please, just leave her alone."

"Don't I always?" He said, chuckling. I cringed my face up, like I'd eaten something sour. Yes, in fact he usually did; it was me he got his fun out of every once in a while.

"Now." He said, kneeling down. Two fingers lifted my chin, as crystal tears fell silently.

"What did you say to me, Adam?" His short brown hair wasn't spiked, but left down. His nose which was shaped too perfectly, his clean shaven face, large brown eyes mirroring mine. Everything about him, to the curve of his perfect chest, to the shape of his slender hips, every perfect shade of his skin disgusted me. I let the tears fall; he'd only think it weakened me.

"How do you want me?" I asked quietly. I didn't look at him, couldn't.

"James, Josh, take Meredith to her car; it's open. I'll take care of Adam." My gaze shifted to my Mother as they picked up her tall slender form. It worried me how she didn't move.

"Up." He said, kicking me in the jaw not too kindly. I grimaced, getting to my feet.

"To the house." He said, emotionlessly. I nodded, walking the short distance from the entrance to the woods, leading to the back of the porch. He was right; Mom always left the car door open, along with the back of the house. I opened the door silently, stepping into the cottage like two story. It was large, but humble; once almost reaching the point to happy. But certain people and events made sure to not allow that much. I cried out when he hit the low of my back. He clicked open his knife as I fell to the ground.

"Take of the clothes." I slowly started pulling my shirt off. My pale skin screaming against the blood dripping down my neck. The contrast great. I took down my pants lankily, shyly as I kneeled again before him.

"Lay down, chest up." I looked at him confusedly, only returned with a slash to the face by his double bladed knife. I fell on my back, still trying to clog the seeping blood. He straddled my hips in barely a second, coming down harshly on my crotch. I yelled out in pain, only getting in return a brutal slam to the jaw. I whimpered, turning my face from him. He was silent for a while, until I felt his weight shift to my upper chest. He pressed the blade into my abdomen, I screamed hoarsely, trying to get him off of me.

"Stop!" I yelled. He easily held down my arms and chest, taking my chin in his hands he made me look at him.

"It's you or your Mother, which one?" He said numbly. Closing my eyes, small tears fell, but I let my arms drop away. I could feel his smirk dripping onto my skin like acid. A soft kiss landed on my lips, I wanted to throw up.

"Good boy." He whispered, pressing the blade farther up my chest. Running deeply through the skin and meat. I screamed out, only succeeding in having him digging deeper. It didn't anger him that I screamed, I think it only excited him farther. But he dug deeply with two blades, through skin muscle and meat. When someone does this to your body, you can't help but to scream until your vocal chords feel like sand paper against each other. This was what happened. He dug into my chest just enough for it to feel like fire, but not enough for it to go numb; unfortunately. Finally, after about 30 minutes of agonizing skin ripping pain, he stopped. Breathing heavily, I looked down seeing only blood, it was everywhere. It wasn't the fact that there was so much that scared me, what scared me was it was mine … all of it. I found his eyes and held his gaze; he stared at me; the same wretched smile plastering those hungry lips.

"Spread your legs for me, Adam." He said, those perfect teeth glistening behind his lips. I bit my lip harshly, my knees still firmly together underneath him. His smile faltered, and then faded.

"Spread your legs, Adam." He said, the smile and humor lost to anger and that sick voice he has when he's this way and only this way. I knew it would have been best if I'd have just done it. I knew it would have gone easier, but the mental pain of just giving into him would have been scarring; and I had enough scars. He dug his nails into my chest, as I threw my head back, my mouth forming a silent 'O'. I didn't have enough vibrations left in my throat to scream for help, no one was coming. I pulled apart my knees, letting him have the full view. Closing my eyes, I turned my head away, I just couldn't watch; never could. He didn't take off all of his clothes, I heard a familiar zip and he pushed inside of me. No warning, no lube, nothing. He didn't have pity he didn't have mercy. He didn't have a soul. He pounded me until my back hurt from being thrust into the wooden ground; finally he relented when his warmth was spread into me. He laid his head on my knee, resting there as he panted. He dipped his fingers down, squeezing them inside my beaten walls. I couldn't yell there was nothing left. My eyebrows bunched together as he roughly ripped his fingers out.

"Open." He said, still breathing heavily. I looked at his fingers, as his open mouth quickly turned to a frown, he growled as he shoved his fingers into my mouth.

"Suck." He growled, I sucked. There was the faintest trace of a smug smile as I sucked on his invading digits. The fluid was inside of my mouth, like thick caramel. I wanted to vomit, and it must have shown on my face because he said,

"You throw up, I throw you." I kept my eyes locked onto his as I nodded slowly, while swallowing. The smile didn't return, he only got up, tucked himself back in, and left. Didn't say anything, wasn't going to. And that was that until he came back and wanted more or something else. The second the door closed I ran to the bathroom and threw up anything I'd eaten in the past week. I threw up till I was dry heaving. I got to my feet when I was finished, stumbling from the bathroom I didn't bother with my clothes. No one lived out here, everyone was gone, and I needed to find my Mother. I stumbled onto the front porch landing on my knees heavily. I lifted my head as if it were two tones. The sun was shining brightly now, the early morning roosters in the woods were crowing as life started. That was life for everyone else besides my Mother and I. And as I walked shakily over to her sprawled out form, I realized everyone besides me. My Mother lay motionless on the hard brown soil. Her blonde hair was still the perfect blonde even super models dreamed of. Those big blue eyes were open, staring at me lazily. The eyes that had won over hundreds of hearts, those were my eyes, and they were never going to flash the brilliant smile or those long invisible lashes again.

I didn't panic; I breathed in slowly, and exhaled slowly. I took my Mother's still warm hand in mine, feeling the inside of it, rubbing it softly and gently.

"Mom." I whispered gently, a small gracious smile tugging my lips. I pushed myself farther onto my knees, digging into the hard pact dirt.

"Mom." My voice croaked and my chest shook; my ears rang and my thoughts were scattered. Her hand was still so warm, I didn't understand. I leaned down, my face scrunched up, my vision completely blurred as stinging tears fell onto my Mother's soft pale cheeks. My body ached, my bottom felt the worse, something was wrong with my rib and blood was coming from my chest quickly and silently; but I didn't feel anything. My wracking chest pushed me forward until I was sobbing against my Mother's forehead, hers now slimed with sweat and blood. I closed my eyes as my dirty tears fell all over her face, pressing my forehead harder to hers.

"M-Mommy!" I screamed out, my voice came back and I used it until it was raw with pain. I screamed out her name, the name used and beaten to death. After about an hour of screaming and crying, I just, just didn't have anything left to scream with, or to cry with. I tried picking up my Mother's body, but really the only thing that even drug her to the house was my adrenaline, which sickened me. I laid her down on the floor, slowly resting her head on the wood. I went to the bathroom and ripped down the curtain, dragging it back into the living room to my waiting Mom. I stared at her for a moment, glancing at the clock it was only 6 o'clock. I had some sort of life and composure two hours ago. And now, in such little time I had nothing. I confusedly laid the curtain down, picking my Mother up by the arms I drug her onto it. I'd done this exact thing once before with our Dog Jinx, Michael didn't like him. Michael being the step father that he was killed it, and I had to clean it up; what a surprise.

Except this wasn't a dog, this was my life. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? I thought about this as the adrenaline flooded away, and all that was left was a shovel in hand, outside in the woods and my Mother wrapped in cheap Wal-Mart plastic. He knew the cops, It would be stupid to go to them. He knew everyone, when my Mother chooses the best, she sure as hell chose the best. I dug into my thoughts like I dug into the hard ground, shoveling and digging away my life; and now my Mom's. I dug until the sun was setting, slowly, oh so slowly I drug her body into the earth; soil following with her. For a moment I stared at her, the fine white silk robe she often wore, her amazing height, the curve of her hips following into the large dip of her waist. That was my Mother. I closed my eyes.

"I will remember this moment Mom." I said a notch below a whisper, my words barely left my mouth as the rasping non-sense was taken away by the wind. Into the woods and into the trees. I looked down at her, pushing the first load of dirt onto her. The pain was unbearable, and mentally scarring. With each shovel of dirt I cried out harder, the pain of burying my Mother I could never describe in words. There were no words for the hopelessness I had at this moment, watching the filthy ground hide her warm and lifeless flesh. When night hit, and my body didn't feel like mine. Numb and course, I flicked the shovel to the ground, standing shakily.

I was naked, bottom raped, raped of family and home. Raped of the only happiness I was allowed in this life, and as I trudged back to the house, the blood still coming slowly from my wounds; I prayed to God, if there was one, that he would kill me. I stumbled into the house numbly, into the bathroom; I turned all the knobs on. I stepped in, didn't take my braid down, didn't do anything, I just stood. The ice cold water splashed onto my body, I would've cried out but all I could manage was a groan. I stood for a while, my body felt like lead. I finally turned it off, not able to take the cold water any longer. I went to my room, opening all my drawers I got all of my clothing. I dashed to my Mother's room in a heat of furry, getting all of her money from her stashes. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My big brown eyes open wildly, my long black lashes still dripping with ice water. My small chest taking in deep breaths, trying to calm myself physically. But as I stared at my dirty body, I couldn't help but grow angrier. I grabbed my Mother's photo from beside the mirror and ran back to my room. I ripped a bag from the closet, throwing on some shoes and some pants. I didn't zip them up or bother with anything else, I zipped the bag and ran from the house. I threw my shit in my Mom's Honda, ramming the keys into the ignition, I'd never come back to this place again. I screeched out of that long driveway like a bat out of hell. The engine roaring with life as I rammed on the gas repeatedly. Daring life to kill me, pushing the peddle, the roaring of the car yelling at life screaming, 'TRY ME!' I was ready to die. And as I reared the corner, already a ways away from my country home, another car came brushing by almost faster than I was. I smiled, twisting the wheel violently, making the slightest attempt to not crash into it. But I already knew. I heard the sound of the engine long before I actually saw the car. I was ready for this, I was ready to die. I closed my eyes, as time slowed and I waited for our cars to collide, and I did.

I felt the impact of the back of the car hit something large. It could've been the side of the hills; it could've been the other car. But as my head slammed into the window, and the seat lurched backward me going with it, I honestly didn't care. I didn't care about the other person, and if they lived, by God would they feel the pain I've felt. I rested my head against my shoulder, looking out of the crashed window I saw over the cliff. I tried to cough but nothing came out, maybe I was paralyzed. The thought was wonderful. I had the feeling like it was Christmas, and I was running down the stairs to see all the wonderful things I might've gotten. That was how I felt about death. I closed my eyes as a hand was placed on my shoulder. I couldn't see the person it was just too blurry. They were shaking me and pulling me, I had myself back enough to say,

"Leave me, I was meant to die." The hand dropped away for a second and then I was yanked out of the car. I cried out weakly, but happily. Maybe they ripped something, I was shook violently, and finally I opened my eyes annoyed.

"What!" I yelled out, focusing my vision which was rapidly losing. The man had long black hair like mine, pulled in a low ponytail. Big baby blues, and tall as hell and back. I focused on his angry face.

"What the hell is your problem?" He yelled loudly. I smiled, outrage, I wish I had it instead of hopelessness.

"I have so many problems, that someone like you will never even have to face." I started laughing weakly.

"You are a waste of existence." I stopped laughing, my head slowly upturned to look at this person. I barely felt the tears drop from my open eyes.

"That's what he always said." I said softly, letting my vision blur. I thought he growled, but sweet black overtook me. And I swam in it, and for the first time in a long time, I prayed to anyone out there that I wouldn't ever wake up.

Unfortunately I did wake, lost between the utter bliss of unconsciousness and consciousness. The first thing that hit me was my chest, and when I moved my legs I found my back was in unbearable pain. I cried out, tugging at some kind of rope. I had a headache I wouldn't ever be able to put in possible words. The kind like some giant pitchfork is slowly trying to creep inside my skull, or like a Mack truck is trying to push on top of my head. It made my vision swim for a moment.

"You experienced a car crash." I shook my head, looking around for the voice. I didn't care, honest to God I didn't care, and I'd die somehow.

"Do you even care?" He said, the voice was rough and low, deep more than low.

"Where am I?" I asked quietly.

"My home." He said in the same bored voice, I pulled at the ropes.

"Let me go, I must go home."

"What are these?" I jumped at him suddenly appearing in front of me, a finger with a long nail pointed at my chest. I stared at him, glaring. Little ringlets of hair had found their way out of the loose French braid.

"Sometimes in a car crash you receive injuries, it's not that complicated." He shook his head.

"Those aren't from the crash."

"How the fuck would you know? Where you in the damned car with me? Where you in the fucking house with me? Was HE doing it to you! No! You don't know shit! No one does! She didn't either! Stupid fucking prick! He didn't know shit and neither did she! And neither do you! Now LET ME GO!" I screamed. And just as I said it the ropes fell away. I pushed myself off of the counter and fell to the ground, breathing heavily. My head swam like thousands of ants were inside it. My long braid ran to the ground instantly. I pushed myself up, wavering.

"You'll never make it pass the crowd." I turned around wearily, just as my legs failed me. I fell to the ground harshly, landing with a meaty 'thud'.

"Fuck you." I mumbled.

"You won't."

"And why the hell not?" I asked angrily, what fucking crowd!

"Because you're naked." I stopped for a moment, as the heat in my face burst to life. I looked down at myself, finding the markings that Michael made very evident. My whole body was beaten and bruised and bleeding. I hunched down and fell into a corner, putting my head between my knees, my arms beside me. In a flash of remembrance, I thought of everything that Michael had done to me, in the past and in the recent.

"No-no please Michael no more, please please. I'll do anything." I whispered to myself quietly. All the memories that would not leave me alone over the years. From house to house we went to, trying to get away. A hand placed itself on my shoulder and I thrust it away. I stood up, with my screaming head, my vision daring me to try any fast movements. But I did, I ran from the room, ripping open a curtain and stumbling through. There were loud cheers coming from everywhere, hollers and screams.

"Yes! More!" I finally looked up and the room went silent. I looked around wide eyed. I was in some strip joint. The place was cold, and a tall lean man slid off of a pole and walked over to me quickly. He had on a thin tan thong giving him the appearance of nudity. He had large blue eyes, and long blonde hair that swept his collarbone and the low of his shoulders. He smelled like summer.

"My God, are you alright?" He asked, pulling me up by my shoulders. My legs weren't working and he easily did all the work, and gently might I add. Two strong hands yanked us back into the shadows. But I was still transfixed on the blonde man. He was about 6 foot. He seemed womanly, but just a notch of man gave it away. Those large blue eyes blinking confusedly.

"You look like my Mother." I said quietly. He smiled, but his eyes were wide as they looked behind me at the man. They were asking questions silently. I felt a pin prick on my neck and I yelped. The blonde man laid a hand on my shoulder.

"He doesn't have much left." He looked … worried? I didn't know. I didn't care. The pin pricks went deeper into the feeling like two shots. I cringed, whimpering.

"L-let me go Michael." I whispered.

"He's delusional? Where did you find him?" Finally the shots left my neck. I whimpered again, my head falling backwards against the other man's chest. Looking up at him. My vision was swimming again. He had my blood smeared on his mouth, and his eyes were wide, but his face gave nothing away. We stared at each other for a while. Finally I closed my eyes, my legs giving up what little strength they had.

"I'm dying." I whispered, stretching a smile across my lips. They picked me up by my shoulders and by my legs, carrying me over to the counter.

"Not just yet." Someone said. I laughed weakly.

"A waste of human existence." My voice slurred. "I-Is exactly what I am." I couldn't open my eyes, I couldn't move, the only thing I could do was cry. And I did, meekly and weakly. Afraid and small, and that was how I was going to die; alone, afraid, and small. And all I remembered that terrible night, was falling asleep in two stranger's arms on a cold, cold counter.

I shot up in bed, or wherever I was again. My body didn't ache as badly as the last time I woke. I couldn't remember what I dreamed of, but it must have scared me because I woke up in a cold sweat, panting, and breathing heavily. Ropes were attached to my wrists and ankles, and one long one swept around my waist once or twice, allowing me only so much room to move. I lay back down, scared of the impact I might have from my fast movements, only greeted, with none. I touched my forehead softly, rubbing my fingers back and fourth. The room was dark, putting it the simple easy way to say it. Black, black, black, and some more black. Someone moved around me, and I jumped, pulling at the ropes. A hand was resting on my thigh, it squeezed and relinquished. My breathing increased, and the cold sweat returned.

"S-stop." I said quietly, trying to find my voice. Someone grumbled, and someone else moved.

"Shh, it's okay. We're not going to hurt you." I scooted away from the voice, only acquainted with another warm chest that I backed into. I lifted up and tried to move, only succeeding in sitting on two fingers. Fingers close to my bottom did not help relax me. I screamed, curling up into a small ball, the ropes tugging at me harshly.

"Sam, get the lights!" Someone shouted, a higher voice sounding then the rest. A man grunted and a smaller light was turned on. I huddled my head in my hands, shielding myself from view, at least from myself. People were shifting, and the warmth around me faded. I lifted my head, peaking out over my shoulder; looking for anyone. Everyone was lined around a small bed looking over the edge at me.

"So, this is what you look like awake, huh?" I opened my eyes wider, moving my arms to get a better look.

I looked down at myself finding a lot of nudity, I whimpered, yanking on a blanket to cover up my lower half. Sitting up as much as possible, I scooted to the far end of the bed, away from everyone.

"Who are you?" I asked quietly, lifting the blanket to my chin. I got a good look at everyone, they were all men. One burly looking fellow with reddish brownish curls falling to the middle of his back, tall, a lot of muscle. Another with long black hair, straight and so long I was pretty sure it hit the middle of his back; tall, pale, and beautiful. Then the blonde I saw earlier, I squinted my eyes at him, visibly curling my thick re-braided braid around my fingers nervously.

"Where's the black haired man?" I asked shyly. He smiled at me, bowing a little.

"His names Dante, he'll be here soon. He had to go run some errands really quick." He smiled again, his white pearls glistening proudly. I tried to lift up, but the ropes kept me from moving too much.

"C-can you untie me?" Some looks were exchanged and his smile faded, to only be returned nervously.

"I-I'm not sure we should just yet, maybe not until Dante gets here, okay?" I looked at him just as nervously, scooting back as far as I could.

"P-please, I didn't mean to do anything wrong, just l-let me go? Please?" I whimpered, pulling at the ropes. The blonde man's eyes were sad, and his smile drooped.

"I can't Adam." I looked at him, afraid.

"How do you know my name?" I whispered hoarsely. My eyes got wide, huge. "D-Do … you …" My voice faded, and I couldn't help the tears that fell silently.

"You work for him don't you?" He burrowed his eyebrows for a moment.

"Work for whom?" He said softly. I shook my head, pulling at the rope around my waist weakly.

"Y-you work for Michael!" I yelled. I sobbed loudly, accidentally. He shook his head, his curly blonde hair looking distressed.

"No, no I don't work for Michael." He said quietly, looking to his right at the more burly man. The man nodded, walking over to me. I squealed, trying to scoot away as much as possible.

"Please please no, please."

"Stop!" Someone shouted from the doorway. All heads were turned except for mine and the blonde's. My eyes were locked on Mr. Truck Driver here.

"Get away!" I yelled, closing my eyes and then opening them Dante was right behind the other man. I couldn't take it anymore, I flipped onto my stomach, hiding underneath the sheets. It was pitiful and degrading, but it helped.

"Stop." Dante said ever so quietly. The blankets were lifted off of me, and all I could do was lay there shaking. Dante worked his fingers around the knots in my ankles and wrists, slowly and painfully. I sniffled while he worked at the large knot in my back from my waist. He lifted me in his arms, carrying me out of that dreadful room.


End file.
